


Ethics Review

by Marsalias



Category: Danny Phantom, The Secret Saturdays
Genre: Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsalias/pseuds/Marsalias
Summary: The Secret Scientists are considering new members.  But before they make any final decisions, they're conducting thorough interviews.  They don't want another Abby Gray on their hands.  (Based on a tumblr prompt by thenerdycupcake)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?”

Doc gave Zak a look. “Because the Secret Scientists need new members. Potential members need to be screened by existing members. And the Fentons have kids your age.”

Zak raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t exactly get along with ‘kids my age.’” It was true. Ulraj and Wadi were exceptions to the rule, and even interactions with them had been rough at first. It had been four years since he met them, and they were still just about his only friends. 

Zak just didn’t do ‘normal’ very well. Sure, he could integrate himself into a group for the sake of information gathering, but that usually didn’t last very long. Thirty minutes, tops. 

“I know,” said Doc. “But sometimes people will say things to and around kids that they wouldn’t otherwise, and we want to be thorough. Make sure we’re inviting ethical people. No more Abbies.”

“I guess that makes sense,” said Zak. He sighed. He knew Fisk wouldn’t be able to come. Most of the time, they were able to get away with people assuming he was a guy in a suit, or just ignoring him in favor of much more obvious, more immediately dangerous cryptids, but that wouldn’t be something they could get away with when it came to prolonged contact. 

It never seemed fair to Fisk. 

(Cryptids always seemed to get the short end of the stick. Even the ones who were as intelligent as any human.)

“You don’t _have_ to be friends with them,” said Doc, putting a hand on Zak’s shoulder. “Just like we don’t _have_ to accept the Fentons into the Secret Scientists... But give it a chance?”

“Okay,” said Zak, shrugging. “A chance.”

.

Danny loved his parents. They loved him. He knew that they were brilliant scientists who had made incredible breakthroughs in a difficult and poorly regarded field. They deserved recognition and funding. They had no colleagues with whom to correspond or test ideas with. They had no real friends. They deserved that, too. 

All in all, Danny thought they deserved the position in the think tank that was about it interview them. 

But Danny felt sick at the idea of them spreading their biased and hateful theories about ghosts to yet another group. He hated the very thought of even more people, more scientists, more people who were trying to do good in the world, calling him and the other ghosts evil just because of the way they existed. 

But he didn’t know how to stop it. Not without revealing himself, and he was too much of a coward to do that. 

... Maybe he could convince their kid he was a jerk?

Ugh, no. As inconsiderate as he could be unintentionally, he was incapable of being a jerk _on purpose._ Unless the person deserved it. 

(Jazz had once theorized that it had to do with his ghostly Obsession of helping others. Danny theorized that not all aspects of his personality had to do with him being a ghost. Jazz had dropped the theory shortly thereafter.)

He was worried. 

Could pull a Harry Potter and drop a cake on someone’s head. Would that work?

Unlikely. 

There was _one_ option, but it was a bit of a longshot. He could tell the interviewers that he had doubts about his parents’ work and conclusions. But would they believe him? He was just a teenager. Easy to dismiss. 

What if he approached them as Phantom?

(What if they were just as gun-happy as his parents?)

This was hard. 

He sighed, and swung himself off his bed. Regardless of what he actually did, he needed to make himself ‘presentable,’ otherwise he’d never hear the end of it. 

Although, concerning his appearance and his secrets... He tugged lightly on the lock of gray hair he’d sprouted lately. It had become a nervous habit. One he really needed to stop, because drawing attention to white hair on his head was _not_ something he wanted to do. 

Maybe be should start dying his hair?

“Danny?” called Maddie from downstairs. “The Saturday’s are here! Come on down!”

Danny clattered down the stairs, being loud on purpose (the better to be undetected when he _wanted_ to be quiet). 

The Saturdays... Huh. Danny had not expected to ever see another family wearing jumpsuits. Much less orange jumpsuits. Jack looked overjoyed. 

The Saturdays’ jumpsuits looked just _slightly_ more combat ready, however. Danny’s stomach, which had already been sitting rather low in his chest, plummeted. 

He did not foresee this going well in any way, shape, or form. 

He forced himself to turn his attention towards the son. Who was color coordinated with his parents, but not, thankfully, wearing a jumpsuit. 

(Interestingly, he did, however, appear to be armed.)

“Hi,” said Danny, waving slightly in greeting. 

“This is our son, Danny,” said Maddie. “Our daughter, Jazz, is at a study group right now, but she should be home before too long. Danny, this is Doctor Solomon Saturday, his wife, Drew, and their son, Zak.”

Zak smiled at Danny in a slightly strained, awkward way. His teeth were just a little sharper than human average. There were flecks of orange and gold in his eyes. 

This was a person who wasn’t _quite_ human. 

Maybe this would be easier than Danny thought. He tugged on his lock of white hair. “Prematurely grey buddies, huh?” he said. 

“Oh,” said Zak, touching his own, much larger, tuft of white hair. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Um,” said Danny, acutely aware of all the parental eyes on him. “Video games?”

“Sure,” said Zak. 

“Great,” said Danny. “Let’s go.”

.

Zak followed Danny upstairs. 

He was 99% certain the other boy wasn’t entirely human. He wasn’t sure if it was simply intuition, or some remnant of his Kur powers, but he would put money on it. If, well, he had anyone who’d bet with him. 

(Doyle, maybe, but Doyle wasn’t here.)

(Where had this intuition been with Argost? That’s what he wanted to know.)

“So,” said Danny, rocking slightly. “Do you play Doom?”

“Now and then,” said Zak. “Kinda prefer older games.”

“How old?”

“Uh... I kind of like the pokemon games on the 64?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got a couple of those,” said Danny. “Um.” He flopped down in a beanbag chair. “Just... make yourself at home, I guess?”

“Thanks,” said Zak, managing to catch the controller Danny tossed at him and sitting in the desk chair. 

“So...” said Danny, not making a move to turn on the system. “This is going to be weird to ask, but, um. Do your parents know you’re not totally human?”

Zak stared. He... hadn’t expected Danny to be able to tell that he had been Kur, much less come right out and ask him about it.

“Or... you know what, forget I said anything. It’s just a joke, haha, so, games-”

“Do _yours_ know?”

Danny frowned. “That you’re not human?” 

“No, that _you_ aren’t human.”

Danny looked away. “No,” he said, fiddling with the controller. “They’re not... very good about that kind of stuff. If your parents are, that’s good. It’s just...” He rubbed the cord of the controller between his fingers. “Mom and Dad are great at the technical side of things, but they don’t like being wrong. And they think ghosts are unfeeling and mindless, so...”

“Oh,” said Zak. “Um. Are you,” he stopped, realizing that asking someone if they were dead was probably not a great idea. He slumped down in his seat. “I’ll tell my parents.”

“Yeah, if you could not tell them about _me_ and just, like, the other bit, that’d be great.”

“I can do that,” said Zak. 

.

Jazz carefully placed an envelope under the windshield wiper of the Saturdays’ car. Knowing her brother, he was probably going to try something dramatic, but if these people were _serious_ about being scientists, she was sure they would take _evidence_ and _data_ regarding the intelligence of ghosts much better. 

And Danny had thought he was just humoring her when he helped her interview those ghosts! Thought she had no other motives other than curiosity!

Well. Honestly, he was right. Back then, she didn’t know there was a think tank considering inviting her parents to join. 

But, hey, it came in handy, didn’t it?

.

“It’s such a shame,” said Drew, writing her recommendation _against_ the Fentons joining the Secret Scientists. “They seemed like such nice people.”

“Yeah, but if _both_ their kids are telling us they shouldn’t be let in,” said Zak, “and they don’t even know about the Secret Scientists, they think you’re just part of a think tank, how nice can they really be?”

Drew made a face, and reached over to give Zak a quick hug, which he just as quickly escaped. 

“The daughter, though,” said Doc. “She has a good foundation, here, with her research.”

“Maybe once she graduates high school,” said Drew. “We have scholarships, don’t we? Or maybe an internship... Cryptid psychology might interest her...”

“What about Danny?” asked Zak, yelping as Fisk snuck up behind him and poked him. 

“Hrrade hhr hrend?” said Fisk, slyly.

Zak narrowed his eyes. “ _Maybe,”_ he said. 

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” promised Doc. “All the Fentons. Just in case.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey,” said Danny, adjusting his mike. “Guys, this is Zak.” Zak’s avatar jumped on the screen in lieu of a wave. “Zak, this is Sam and Tucker.”

“Hi,” said Zak, his voice crackling. “This is my brother, Fisk.”

There was a sort of muttering on the other end of the line. 

“He, uh, has a speech impediment.”

Danny was something like 90% sure that was Lemurian, but he wasn’t fluent and wasn’t about to call Zak, or Fisk, out on being something other than human. Maybe if he could talk in private, he could ask if they’d mind him telling Frostbite that some of their cousins (distant cousins, but whatever) lived on. 

“That’s cool,” said Tucker. “What are your guys’ stats? Got to know how we’re going to handle this boss.”

.

“We’re all clear?”

“Yep,” said Danny, reviewing his healing spells. There was just something relaxing about _not_ being on the frontline. 

... At least in a fictional setting. 

He pressed the button to enter the boss’s lair and...

“Oh my gosh,” said Sam, “are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?”

Danny rubbed his hand down his face. “Yep,” he said, regarding the boss and his flaming hair with disfavor. 

“Danny,” said Tucker, sounding stunned. “Don’t tell me your evil future self based his appearance off a _video game boss_?”

“Couldn’t have,” said Sam. “This update wasn’t even in the works back then.”

“Um,” said Zak. “Evil future self?”

Right. Zak was still here. 

“Yeah, um,” said Danny, deciding how much he wanted to explain. Sam and Tucker had fallen silent. “I know a guy who does time travel and at one point the three of us went to a bad future where I went crazy evil and caused the apocalypse. But we averted that future. So you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh,” said Zak. “Same hat.” Danny had a split second to process that before Zak hurried to explain, “I mean, no time travel on this end, but, uh. Visions. Of the future. Possible future. Because of my insanely evil past life.”

“Ah,” said Danny. “Maybe we tag-teamed the apocalypse.”

“Yeah,” said Zak. 

“Oh, oh,” said Tucker, “you and Danny are apocalypse buddies, but you and _I_ are potentially-evil past life buddies! Where’s your dude from?”

“Uhh, ancient Sumer?” said Zak, cautiously.

“Sweet, mine’s from Egypt.”

“I literally can’t believe I’m the most normal person in this friend group,” said Sam, dryly. “Should we log out and just chat, or are we going to take out this boss?”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” said Danny. “Beat this Dan-lookalike’s stupid face in.”

“I don’t think the face looks _that_ much like Dan,” said Tucker, contemplatively. 

“Close enough,” said Danny, cheerfully. 

“Sure,” said Zak, who still sounded rather bemused. “Let’s do this.”


End file.
